


Paradoxical Calm

by LeChatRouge673



Series: Canon Verse Stories and Wanderings [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:52:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeChatRouge673/pseuds/LeChatRouge673
Summary: Prompted by @a-fantasy-explorer on Tumblr.





	Paradoxical Calm

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by @a-fantasy-explorer on Tumblr.

Under usual circumstances, having a woman toying with a knife behind his back would have made Loghain Mac Tir wary, if not downright unnerved. Then again, the woman in question was anything but usual, and if she’d had a mind to kill him she would have already had ample opportunity to do so. Void, she could have killed him eight ways from Sunday just lying in bed with him that morning. As it stood, Theadosia’s presence was a comfort rather than a source of alarm, and the lazy flash of her dagger as she ran it along a small whetstone held quiet familiarity.

Spring had alighted on the world, and the faithful return of the sun’s warmth had drawn them outside for the first time since winter’s chill. Montsimmard was not as temperate as Highever, where his wife had grown up, nor as stormy as Gwaren, but still experienced all four seasons in their turn. Now that the clouds had cleared and the snow had faded away, Loghain was able to pursue a practice he had left behind almost two decades ago.

He had grown up with a bow in his hands. His father had given him his first when he was just a child, barely five years old and barely strong enough to draw the string. Loghain had spent long, happy hours wandering the fields and woods around his home, bringing home game to proudly present to his mother, who would in turn create stews and roasts he remembered to this day. Years later, when he was still barely out of his childhood, he would use a bow to fight guerilla warfare against the hated Orlesian occupiers. Ironically, he had been hunting game rather than soldiers the day Maric had stumbled into his life.

When his best friend had foisted the crumbling teyrnir of Gwaren onto his hands, Loghain had set aside his bow and his daggers. Ferelden needed a warrior and a general and a respectable teyrn, not a rogue. As the years passed, he often considered digging out his old weapons, but found it difficult to justify honing skills he no longer truly needed. Now, even with his responsibilities to the wardens and his devotion to the love of his life, he finally had time.

“You are not nearly so out of practice as you led me to believe, “Theadosia noted, a small smile dancing on her lips. “In fact, you could give Nathaniel a run for his money, and he is the best archer I know.”

Loghain shrugged, but the compliment warmed him more than he would say. “I have missed it,” he admitted, sending another arrow flying down range before taking a seat beside her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “With a sword and shield, there is always a proximity to the enemy; a need to act quickly and forcefully and in the moment. With the bow, there is still that necessity to act swiftly, but there is also more space to choose your target and to account for variables. They are both valid ways of fighting, but this,” he held the bow out in his hand, balancing it on his palms. “This is what I grew up with.”

Theadosia leaned her head against his shoulder, humming softly. “I am glad you are finally able to train again,” she said, then stood and reached out a hand. “May I try?”

“Of course,” he nodded, handing over the bow. It was not a terribly heavy draw; he had not been certain just how much his muscles would protest the variance in his routine, so while it may be a challenge for Theadosia, it ought to be manageable.

To his mild surprise, she nocked the arrow and drew back the string with less effort than he expected. Tilting her head briefly, she almost appeared to be listening to the breeze before she gave a small nod of satisfaction. She took her stance, peered towards the straw target, then shot. Her arrow landed neatly in the center ring, nearly touching his own. A half dozen more arrows followed suit, until the center of the target resembled a hedgehog more than anything else. When she had retrieved them and returned to his side, she gave him a small shrug and a half smile.

“You are a constant surprise, Theadosia,” Loghain informed her, standing up and wrapping her in his arms after she had set down the bow. “I had no idea you had such a talent for archery.”

“It was one of the myriad skills Bryce and Eleanor let me pick up in a vain attempt to keep me out of mischief,” she laughed, leaning up and brushing a kiss against his lips. “I love it, though. There is a paradoxical sense of calm it brings to combat, and the simple practice of it seems to quiet my mind and my mood. I am perhaps unreasonably pleased that you still have a gift for it as well.”

“Does this mean we need to get you a bow of your own?”

Theadosia’s smile widened. “Love, I still have mine. It is still tucked away in a box somewhere upstairs. It almost certainly needs a good oiling and a new string, but it is there.”

Loghain offered a small smile of his own.

“Then perhaps we have a new project for the day.”


End file.
